Fledglings
by Maharet11
Summary: Countess Dracula prequal. How did Ursula, Delilah and Bianca become vampires? One chapter for each fledgling.
1. Ursula

Awed gasps sounded throughout the small crowd, and Ursula would have smirked with satisfaction had her mouth not been occupied by her flute. The cobra swayed back and forth in front of her, keeping his gaze fixed upon the end of the flute that swayed in time to the music she played. Several more coins clattered to the ground beside her, and her self-satisfaction grew. Deciding that she had done enough for now, she ceased both the music and the swaying of her flute. The cobra's hood flattened as he retreated to the colourful basket that was his lair. She ignored the now-dispersing crowd in favour of scooping up the coins and placing them in a pouch that hung from her neck.

"It is a rare thing indeed to witness such a performance in this part of the world," said a male voice, and Ursula stiffened. Evidently, not all of her audience was as gone as she had thought. She looked up, and her breath caught in her throat.

A handsome gentleman dressed in fine clothes looked at her contemplatively. Ursula tried to speak, but neither her tongue nor her mouth seemed willing to cooperate. "It seems as though you are finished here," said the gentleman. "May I have the honour of a beautiful lady's company as I see what other sights this carnival has to offer?"

Ursula found herself rising to her feet and nodding before she even realised what she was doing. _Oh well; Mr __Pillai taught me enough __kuttu varisai that this man'll get quite a shock if he tries anything untoward, _she thought smugly as she accepted his offered arm.

The day was a dark one thanks to the heavy clouds that formed a veil between the sky and the earth, and the air contained all the energy and anticipation of a brewing storm. All around were colourful tents and various displays, stores and shows from all around the world. Ursula and her escort passed unnoticed through the crowd for the most part, although a few people seemed to draw back unconciously as they passed. "I am Count Dracula," said the gentleman. "May I know your name, fair lady?"

"I'm just a peasant, not really some noble Lady, but… my name is Ursula. It's a pleasure to meet you, Count." And she attempted a clumsy curtsy.

The Count took her hand in his and leant down to kiss her fingertips. "The pleasure is all mine, Ursula," he told her, and she blushed even as she shivered at the corpse-like coldness of his skin. The coldness alarmed her slightly, and she grew all the more alarmed as she noticed the strange pallour of his skin. She was just about to suggest that they build a fire that he might warm up, but he spoke again before she had the chance. "Would you care to tell me, Ursula, how a European woman such as yourself comes to learn the art of snake charming so rarely seen on this continent?"

"Several years ago I became an apprentice of sorts to an Indian traveller called Mr. Pillai. He taught me how to charm snakes and how to defend myself from attackers, among other things. He died not long ago, but he willed his cobra to me. I've always thought the serpent truly magnificent and majestic…" _Why am I revealing so much to someone I've only just met? The serpent is not exactly popular. _She dared a glance at the nobleman, and saw that he was smiling, and was that approval she glimpsed in his eyes?

"Too few humans truly appreciate the majesty of beasts," he murmured. "It is indeed an _honour_ to have made your aqauaintance, Ursula."

Ursula's heart raced and she gave the Count a genuine smile, sudden joyful hope flaring in her eyes. "So you too respect the untamed glory that is the wilderness?"

"Yes. It just so happens that I am particularly fond of wolves…" A howl rent the air, and Ursula drew close to the Count, eyes wide with sudden fear. She realised with a start that, in her excitement at finding what seemed to be a kindred spirit, she had allowed herself to be lead away from the boundaries of the carnival, away from people…

"Have no fear, Lady Snake-Charmer," said the Count. "The wolves shall not harm you."

"How can you…" And then a great black wolf emerged from the nearby forest, tongue lolling out from between wicked white fangs. Ursula stood frozen as the wolf came closer, and closer, and closer… and then it stopped, only a few feet away, and rolled onto its back, thus leaving its throat and belly exposed. Just as any canine would do to greet its alpha…

Ursula almost stopped breathing right then and there. The Count chuckled. "The wolves shall not harm you," he repeated, and brushed a stray curl behind her ear. "Do you want this power, Ursula? Do you want to become a child of the night?"

"This power? You mean as a lupine alpha?"

"Among other things."

Ursula stayed silent, thinking this over. She felt strangely calm, even though she now suspected the Count of being something inhuman. "Are you a werewolf, Count?"

The Count laughed quietly. "Close, but no. Guess again."

Something similar to a werewolf but not… A suspicion entered her mind, and she placed her hand upon his breast. There was no heartbeat. "Undead. Vampire," she hissed, drawing back in shock. "Drinker of blood. Vampire."

"That is correct." Ursula made to run, but the wolf leapt to block her way, snarling in deadly warning. She was trapped between a vampire and a snarling wolf. Oh, God…

"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…" she began to mutter, but the count hissed, revealing fangs even deadlier than the wolf's, and she faltered, tears threatening to spill from wide eyes. The Count's expression softened, and he held out a hand to her.

"Will you not come with me, Ursula? I, who dwell in solitude, always alone. Will you not become a companion, a daughter, to ward off this loneliness?"

Ursula hesitantly reached out to place her hand in his. "I don't know why… I mean, I'm not even a Christian. It must be engrained from my childhood. I've been a Hindu since shortly after meeting Mr. Pillai." She smiled. "Very well. I accept your offer, Count. But… just a daughter?" She was teasing now.

The Count's eyes became cold and infathomable. "_She_ is long gone from this world," he growled, clenching his fists. "None can take her place." A single tear of blood spilled from his eye, and then he growled frightfully. "I will make them pay…"

"I-I'm sorry, Count," Ursula whispered, and the wolf whined anxiously. They're gazes met then, human and wolf, in understanding. The Count became still and quite. "How is it done? How does one become a vampire?" she continued with equal measures of fear and excitement. A slow, cold smile formed on Dracula's face. His eyes became red like pools of blood and his fangs extended. She felt pain in her throat, and then she tasted the Count's blood in her mouth, and then she knew only darkness.

She awoke on cold stone in a beautifully decorated yet cavernous room with something of an air of decadance. A whimper met her ears, and she sat up, looking around for the source. She saw with horror that a boy only just on the verge of manhood was bound and gagged nearby, his eyes conveying panic that changed to hope and and pleading as his gaze met hers. She trembled as her gaze travelled upwards, for the Count stood over the boy, still dresed in his fine gentleman's clothes. A cruel sneer was upon his lips, and her beloved cobra seemed to have wrapped himself around the vampire's neck.

Dracula beckoned for Ursula to come to him, and her body obeyed even as her mind screamed at her to stop. "The conversion begun when I took your blood and gave you mine," he said when she came to a halt in front of him and his prisoner. "The transformation will be completed either when you die or when you first partake of living blood."

Ursula's horror grew as she realised what exactly the Count had planned for his young prisoner.

"Now drink, Ursula, my daughter."

The woman knelt before the boy, looked into his terrified eyes, and shook her head. "I-I can't. He's just a boy…"

"You can and you will," the Count snarled furiously, but Ursula's eyes hardened and she continued to shake her head.

With one dagger-like fingernail the Nosferatu created a slash at the base of the boy's throat. A burning hunger rose up within her like some sort of waking beast and her gums itched as fangs pushed their way out. She latched onto the boy's throat, unable to resist the tantalising scent that was his lifeblood. Her heart stopped at the same moment as the boy's, and the main difference between them then was that she continued to move while he did not.

Her cobra was placed over her shoulder, and the serpent made no move to strike. Ursula rose to her feet and met the gaze of the now-smiling Count. She licked the last of the blood from her lips. She knew it was wrong, but she no longer cared.

"I want some more."


	2. Delilah

"That will be ____ lei."

Eve counted out the coins and handed them to the storekeeper. She shouldered the groceries with a wince, for they collided painfully with a recently-formed bruise hidden under the cloth of her dress. Distracted by the pain, she paid no heed to her surroundings until she ran straight into a man. The groceries spilled to the ground, scattering over the damp earth. _Ruined_, she thought despairingly, looking at the dirty and broken supplies with horror.

"I'm so sorry, sir; I wasn't looking where I was going," she muttered. She only hoped that it was not someone who would inform her husband of the blunder. Although perhaps it wouldn't make that much difference after he found out about the groceries…

"No," said an unfamiliar voice. "I am the one who should apologise, Madam. Here, allow me to help you." And he crouched down beside her where he began to gather those items still salvageable into his arms. Eve peeked at him through lowered eyelashes, and saw a well-dressed gentleman with long dark hair whose skin had an unusual pallor. She silently accepted his help, grateful to this stranger for his unexpected kindness.

"It is a pity that not all of it could be saved," mused the gentleman. "As recompense I shall purchase for you fresh samples all that was lost, and perhaps you will allow me to buy you a warm drink as well?"

"Fresh samples? I'm not sure I could accept…"

"I insist," said the stranger, and placed a hand on her back to guide her back to the store. Amazingly, he managed to avoid brushing against any bruises.

The storekeeper watched them suspiciously, and Eve hung back fearfully, hoping that news of this would not reach her husband's ears. Her benefactor gave her a smouldering glance, and then said commandingly to the storekeeper; "No one need ever know of this."

A glazed look entered the storekeeper's eyes, and he blankly intoned; "No one need ever know of this." Eve's eyebrows rose, and a distinct feeling of unease settled deep within her gut.

"Now how about that drink, Madam?" said the strange gentleman, his eyes gleaming with some unidentifiable intent.

Feeling suddenly reckless, she replied; "Well, as long as you're buying, good sir…"

"Of course." He bowed slightly and offered her his arm. "I am Count Dracula. May I know your name, Madam?"

"Madam Eve Florea. So you're a nobleman, then? What brings you to this little town?"

One end of the Count's lips twitched upwards, but all he said was; "We're here." And indeed they were. Cristea's was a small, cosy café that Eve had never before had the money to set foot in. She couldn't help but bitterly reflect on how different things might have been if her husband did not squander they're fortune at the pub whenever he had the opportunity, or if her father had not done the same for as long as she could remember.

"Two hot cocoas, please," said the Count to the waiter, and Eve smiled shyly. Never before had a man acted towards her with such courtesy and chivalry.

The drinks were delivered in delicate white cups, and Eve almost moaned as the warm liquid slid over her tongue. It was the sweetest, the most heavenly thing she had ever tasted. She glanced at the Count when she was finished, and saw that he had yet to drink from his own cup of cocoa, but was instead reading a book with angels and devils dancing across the cover.

_I wish that I could read_, she thought, and gave a soft sigh. Her parents had not believed that a girl's education was worth anything.

"I can teach you, if you would like," said the Count, and Eve started. Had she said that out loud?

"I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble…"

"It is no trouble. It would be an honour to teach you to read, Madam Florea."

Still Eve hesitated, but then she silently nodded her consent. She had always wanted to read, after all, and it would be a while yet before her husband returned home from the pub. The Count smiled softly.

"This book is called Paradise Lost. I shall read it to you, and teach you the meaning of the letters and printed words as I do." He opened the book and beckoned her closer so that she could also see the pages. "Book I. The Argument. Of Man's first disobedience and the fruit..."

Some time later, Eve gasped as she realised how late it was. Already the sun had fled from the sky… "Thank you, sir, for I have learnt much, but I fear I must leave now… I must…" Eve looked away as she spoke. Truly, she wished that she could stay here with Count Dracula, continuing the lesson until she keeled over from lack of food. But she knew that she could not.

"Very well, Madam," the Count replied. "Truly you are a quick student. It would please me if we would meet again, that you might learn yet more."

"It would please me as well, Count. Same time three days from now? The east marketplace?"

The Count inclined his head in agreement. Eve gave a brief smile that belied the anxiety gnawing at her insides, and then turned away. She rushed past the rich white tablecloths and the tall, elegant candles, and then she was dashing through the streets, surrounded by cold darkness. When she reached her house, and saw the light that glowed in the window, she almost stopped breathing with fear. Steeling herself, she turned the doorknob with sweaty hands.

A fist slammed into the side of her face, knocking her into the wall. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. "Wher've ya beee-en?" slurred her husband. Before she could reply, his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped to the floor, unconscious. It was only then that she realised that the Count had not once even sipped at his cocoa.

Nevertheless, three days later Eve once again sat beside the Count, eyes eagerly following the lines of Paradise Lost. The dark bruise on her face had been made invisible by copious amounts of makeup. Throughout the lesson, the Count's gaze continually returned to that part of her face, almost as though he saw straight through the cosmetics to the horrific mark below.

She woke with a start, turning confused eyes towards the Count. When had she fallen asleep?

"It seems that you are quite tired, Madam," said he. "Perhaps it would be best if you returned to your home for now. Would you like to meet here again, three days from now?"

Bemused and strangely light-headed, she could only nod in agreement. Before she left, however, she murmured; "This story's familiar, although I've never before heard it told quite like this. I suppose my namesake is destined to fall once again in this retelling?" She could not help but notice that the Count appeared rather less pallid than he had before her impromptu nap.

The Count's ruddy lips curled into a smirk. "Some consider the dragon interchangeable with the devil; the serpent who tempts. Did you know that Dracul means dragon, Madam Eve?"

When Eve looked in the mirror that night, she noticed two marks like large pinpricks in her throat. She shrugged them off, just as she had the Count's comment about the meaning of his name.

But then her husband's arrival home was announced by the customary stench of alcohol.

He shoved her against the wall and ripped open the front of her bodice.

She snarled and lunged at his throat. Fangs penetrated flimsy skin. Blood slid down her throat, sweet as honey.

She panicked as soon as she realised what she had done. She fled the house more swiftly than humanly possible. Clouds covered the moon, yet her sight, and every other sense as well, was sharper than ever before.

Count Dracula stepped out from behind a building so that he blocked the narrow path. Eve stopped dead, baring her fangs and hissing. The Count reached out towards her with a reassuring smile. "Come, fledgling," he whispered. Driven by some unfamiliar instinct, she took his hand, and they ran together through the village, and then the forest. Eventually, they reached an imposing castle where she meekly followed him through dark stone halls.

"Why is _she_ here?" When Eve turned to look at the speaker she saw a woman; the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The woman was sneering, and a cobra lay listlessly across her shoulders, scales dull with age.

"She is family," said the Count, and jealousy twisted the woman's expression yet further.

"Why?" she almost-whined. "Am I not company enough, Master? What does that wench –"

The Count cut her off with an angry snarl. Eve shrieked in fright, leaping back with wide eyes. A puzzled expression came over the snake-woman's face. "What's wrong, girl?" she asked curiously.

"W-what's g-g-going o-on?" Eve stammered. "Wh-who a-are y-you p-people?"

This time it was the strange, beautiful woman who snarled. Glaring at the Count, she said quietly; "_Please_ tell me you didn't turn her with no explanation."

The Count looked almost embarrassed. The woman's nostrils flared with barely-restrained fury. Turning to Eve, her expression softened incredibly, and she said frankly; "You're a vampire."

Eve would have panicked had she not been so relieved to finally know what was going on. "Is that why I'm not breathing?" she asked. Before the other woman replied, she continued; "The Count did it, didn't he? When he was teaching me how to read?"

"He was teaching you how to read? Ah, never mind, that doesn't matter. To answer your questions: yes, yes, and probably. I'm Ursula. Who are you?"

Eve opened her mouth, but closed it again before any sound escaped. Eve was the woman trapped by society and her despicable husband. The Dragon had given Eve the means to taste the forbidden, blood, and she had fallen as a result. She had fallen into freedom and knowledge. Having gone through such significant changes, having _died_, was it not fitting that her name should change as well? A new name for a new existence…

"I am Delilah."


	3. Bianca

Bianca danced, moving from partner to partner as a butterfly would move between flowers. She knew well that wealth, beauty and availability combined to make her the belle of the ball, a fact that she revelled in. Other women watched with jealousy, particularly when their husbands approached her also. She feigned innocent obliviousness in such cases, as befitted a young, unmarried lady. No-one need know that she was fully aware of these men's polygamous intentions. She would never, ever acquiesce to them, but the thrill of been near enough to touch the forbidden was a welcome repose from normalcy.

Two watching women caught her eye, both extraordinarily beautiful. It was not their beauty, however, that caught her attention so much as the fact that their youthful, feminine faces were void of envy. They were unique in a time and place where even her dearest female friends could not quite conceal their hostility. And why did that caramel-haired one look so familiar? She callously dismissed her current dance partner, pointedly ignoring his hurt demeanour, and drifted over to the women instead. She could have easily made a more tactful retreat, but the repetitiveness with which she had been doing so all night had started to get on her nerves. Besides, that suitor was a particularly irritating one.

Perhaps she should become a nun. At least then she would not be constantly hounded by her family's desire to find her a husband.

She dismissed the idea even more quickly than it had come. After all, a life devoted to God would be _boring_, she was sure. So many rules, especially for the women. Besides, that path would close the doors to any possibility of a Happily Ever After with her own personal Prince Charming.

Although she _was_ beginning to doubt that such a man even existed.

"Good evening," she said with a curtsy. "I am Lady Bianca. Who are you?"

The caramel-haired, the familiar-looking one laughed. "There's no need to be so formal, Bianca. It doesn't suit you."

_Six-year-old Bianca stuffed a fist into her mouth to keep from giggling__. _They'll never find me up here_, she thought gleefully as she peered down from the rafters at her frantic nursemaid plus entourage. It seemed that close to half the household staff had been pulled into the search for their missing 'young Mistress'. Like a flock of sheep they milled anxiously, exiting the room just as they had entered it: together. And then, just when she thought she was clear…_

"_Why don't you come down? You might fall, and that just wouldn't do, now would it?"_

_Bianca almost did fall down from surprise. "I won't fall," she said with all a child's stubborn certainty. "Who're _you_?" _

"_I am Ursula." Lady Ursula was very pretty, she thought, with her glittery gown and symmetrical face. Perhaps she was the guest Papa had been talking about? She asked, and the Lady smiled. _

"_Yes. My dear cousin, Count Dracula, was unable to make it, so I came instead. And I'm so very glad I did."_

"_Why?"_

"_Why? Because I got to meet you, Princess!" She grinned playfully, and held out her arms. "Come, jump down into my arms, sweetie. I won't let you fall!" The Lady's playfulness appealed to the child, who grinned and giggled happily, and then tumbled from her lofty perch, freefalling through air. The Lady caught her, just as she had promised._

_They talked for ages, Lady Ursula weaving enchanting stories to which little Bianca listened with rapt attention. "… and then the Beast…"_

"_Demon!" shrieked the nursemaid, brandishing a crucifix. "Leave the child! His Lordship and Her Ladyship may be fooled, but the servants know you!" Lady Ursula shrank back, spitting with anger, and Bianca cried out with confusion._

"_I intend the child no harm," hissed Ursula, but the nursemaid payed her no heed, instead continuing to advance on the Lady, who made to flee._

"_Don't go!" cried Bianca, and the women stopped._

"_You will see me again, I promise," said Lady Ursula gently. "As one of us, if you so wish it, little Princess." And she left them, the child confused but oddly reassured, and the nursemaid wide-eyed with fear and dawning dread. _

"Lady Ursula?" asked Bianca. "But no… that can't be right. You don't look a day older… You look younger if anything." Her brow creased.

"I _have_ aged well, haven't I?" Ursula smiled. "Do you remember what the nursemaid said, 'little Princess'?"

"You really are her!" Bianca joyfully proclaimed, and flung her arms around the other woman. Her utter lack of decorum drew many stares and whispers to which both Ursula and her companion responded with derisive glares that quickly had the onlookers turning away with pinkish cheeks. Bianca drew back, oblivious to this interaction, and glanced at Ursula's dark-haired companion. "Who's your friend?"

"I'm Delilah," said the dark-haired one, and then turned her gaze upon Ursula. "So she's the one. Are you quite sure, Ursula?"

"Huh?" said Bianca. "Sure about what?" She frowned. "And what about the nursema… Oh. You're really a demon?" She felt strangely calm about the idea; after all, a human could just as easily be a monster as any demon.

"Of sorts," Ursula replied quietly, amusement in her eyes. "We're vampires."

Bianca stared, her bright blue eyes wide and glittering. "V-vampires? Like the Prince that lost his bride in that tale you told me? Of all the tales you told me, that one was my favourite…"

The dark-haired woman, Delilah, stared at her bemusedly. "You're so calm," she whispered in an awed voice. "Humans _never _react this calmly to our truth."

"I told you she was special," said Lady Ursula in a tone of smug superiority. "So what do you think, little Princess? Will you become one of us, a childe of the Prince from the tale?"

"You mean he's _real_?" Now Bianca sounded just as awed as had Delilah mere moments before. "He really, truly exists?"

"He does."

A single tear trickled from the corner of one of Bianca's eyes and trailed its way down her cheek, glinting under the ballroom's bright lighting as though a liquid crystal. "He must be so sad. To have loved so deeply and to have lost her so suddenly…" She sighed compassionately. "But… his childe? You mean… he'll turn me into one of you? A-a vampire?"

"That's what we're offering," said Lady Ursula with an odd half-smile. "Now, sweet Bianca, it is time for you to make your choice."

The blonde human closed her eyes. Almost without thought, one pale, manicured hand brushed against the thin gold chain that hung around her neck, absently tracing it to the angel-formed pendant below her collarbone. At her deathbed, Mama had bequeathed it to her. "He is Zadkiel," she had said. "He is the angel of mercy and forgiveness. When a sinner is truly sorry, he forgives even the most appalling atrocities." And then her heart, that life-driving lump of flesh, had stopped beating.

This offer of Lady Ursula's was certainly very tempting. She would stay young and beautiful forever… And should not forever be long enough to find that elusive Prince Charming? And what a splendid adventure it would surely be; from this stuffy boring life in all-too-garish light, to that unexplored never-boring world of darkness that fuels nightmares, at the sides of Lady Ursula and her friend Delilah, and of the Prince from that enchanting seductive tale. Lady Ursula would become her big sister…

But would even Zadkiel forgive her for that?

"Very well. I'll do it." _For_ _what does forgiveness matter when I will live forever?_

The very next night, Bianca banqueted upon the lifeblood of her very own family. Deaf to all their pleading and begging, all she knew was drunken thirst and anger – no, rage – over the gilded cage of obligatory marriage to a dull, pompous nobleman in which they would have trapped her. Ursula watched with awed disbelief, and Delilah seemed shocked as well. "She will regret this, mark my words," muttered that dark-haired one.

The Count, the Impaler Prince, smiled. "A wonderful choice, Ursula," he said. "Perhaps I should allow you to choose all my future fledglings."

"No," Ursula shuddered, shaking her head vehemently. "Never again. Still I hold great affection for this child, but… Never again, Count… Master..."

The Count approached the voluptuous blonde in her once-white gown stained red with blood and gore. He extended his hand to her, something in his eyes that was somehow savage, gentle and ironic all at once, and Bianca placed her hand in his, her eyes almost as savagely insane as his had been when, in his human warlord days, he had impaled an entire three enemy divisions.

"Welcome to the family, Bianca."


End file.
